A Second Chance
by TaurianHeroine
Summary: When Jason Todd accidentally manages to save a strangely familiar man from certain doom at the hands of a thug, events transpire that lead him to the opportunity of a lifetime: to go back in time, to change his decisions, to be a better Robin and son, to have the family he longs for, and most importantly, to change his fate. UP FOR ADOPTION
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own Batman, nor Jason Todd (if I did, poor Jay wouldn't have died - who cares if there was a vote back in the 80s? That was just cold, really cold...)**

*******_Batman: Under the Red Hood_ is the backstory and basis for Jason Todd in this story***

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Chapter 1

"I don't know what clouds your judgment worse – your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality."

– Jason Todd, _Batman: Under the Red Hood_

For all that made him a monster in the eyes of heroes, for all that made him who he was, for his stubbornness and his temper, there was - at the least - one thing that could be admired about Jason Todd: his strength. His strength to keep fighting, to keep holding on when life had shattered into a million pieces, his strength to never give up. The world could be destroyed tomorrow, but Jason Todd would still keep fighting. He didn't give up. Despite everything that had happened, he was determined, capable, and more than willing to take on the costs.

That didn't mean he never fell short – he fell short many times, even in his own eyes though most of his acquaintances considered him too arrogant to acknowledge flaws within himself. Jason had trained himself to display only what he wanted to, to proudly stride before the world as a brutal, heartless angel of death, when on the inside he was a heartbroken teenager longing for love and acceptance. Would he ever admit to such a thing? Hell no. He had too much pride for that, and he had learned his lesson from his encounter with Batman that night in the apartment with Joker.

Jason was, by appearances, a merciless vigilante. It was how he needed to, and wanted to, be seen if he was to make an impact on Gotham. The city had festered in its filth for too long. Batman could only do so much. If he were willing to take the next step, to do what needed to be done, then perhaps it wouldn't still be the Hell it was. But no, the dirty work of eliminating the problem had fallen on Jason.

Tonight's first problem was in the form of a drug dealer, selling his poison to innocent children. Nothing made Jason Todd angrier than to see someone harming a child. So, after night had fallen, he pulled on his uniform, covered his face with the crimson mask, strapped on his knives and guns, and left to make a difference in Gotham's criminal underworld.

He found the dealer, a man of about forty years with scraggly hair and sunken eyes, smoking on the street corner, leaning against the edge of a crumbling building. He took a deep puff, soaring so high in the clouds that he didn't notice the dark figure approaching from the shadows of an adjacent alleyway. Narrowing his eyes beneath the mask, the Red Hood pulled out and unsheathed a favorite knife from his ever-growing collection.

He had been watching this man all day, counting the number of sells he made, making a mental note of what number of sells were to misguided children and to women. Once, the man sold to a woman who was clearly pregnant. That had sparked an all new fire in Jason's already-lit heart. To do that… was just sick.

His reasons for keeping an eye on the number of women being drawn in to the drugs, was more personal. His mother, though adoptive, had died of a drug-overdose and it had always weighed heavy on his heart. To see other women, possibly mothers, putting themselves and their families in the same situation struck a chord deep within Jason.

This man had chosen to commit his sins in Jason's territory, and now he would have to answer for them to the Red Hood himself.

Keeping his knife hidden, slipped partially up the sleeve of his jacket, he plucked the cigarette from the man's hand and dropped it to the ground, making sure to stomp it hard with his booted foot. The drug-addict lifted himself off the wall, ready for a fight, too drugged to realize just who he was going up against.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jason commented, as the man made a fist. "You might get something worse in return. Actually, scratch that – you _will_ get something worse in return."

The man's dazed eyes narrowed. "Who do you think… you are?" The man was fumbling to find the right words in a brain too shocked to give him what he needed.

"You've had one too many whiffs," Jason said, shrugging, then taking the man by surprise and grabbing his arm, twisting it so that the man's back was to him and that he was on his knees, shaking in pain as his bones threatened to break, Jason holding the knife against his throat. "You want to know who I am? I'll tell you – I'm Red Hood and you're in _my _territory. And honestly, I really don't like you. Do you want to find out what I do to people I don't like, especially when they're as disgusting as you?" _Seriously, when's the last time this guy's had a shower?_ Jason wondered.

The man trembled when Jason mention the name 'Red Hood'. Even in his drug-induced state, he still remembered the name of the 'crime-lord' that everyone was so afraid of.

"Red… Hood? Listen, man… I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Didn't know _what_? That you were selling to kids? That you were selling to a pregnant woman? That you're a bastard that I'm so close to eliminating, that you better start saying your prayers?"

The man whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"The word 'sorry', doesn't mean anything to me," Jason retorted.

"Please! I… I got a wife! And kids! Three of them!" The man was crying now. _What a wimp._

"You do realize that what you just said, is pretty much the biggest lie in the book, right?" Jason purposely scoffed.

"No, no, I got a picture! I can prove it to you! It's… it's in my wallet!"

Jason snorted. "Do you really want to insult my intelligence again?" He pressed the knife a little deeper.

"No… please, let me go. I won't do it again! I'll… I'll leave! I won't come back! I promise!"

"I don't believe you. Too bad, so sad."

"Please! I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!"

The man was sobbing now.

"Sorry, but the bank just called and it looks like I'm all out of fucks to give."

The man started crying even more. Jason, however, was feeling merciful tonight. Had he drunk too much, had someone slipped something into his water at his apartment? He didn't know, didn't really care, but was satisfied with the look on the man's face. He'd play nice tonight, especially since he didn't want any attention from the Bat who, by now, had probably heard of Gotham's latest pyscho – who was currently holed up not too far from Jason's place. Instead of finishing the job, he lifted away his knife before fully twisting the man's arm till a crack split the night before sending his fist into the back of his head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Replacing his knife in its original place, he removed the drugs and drug money from the man's body before standing. He didn't bother to move the man – like he said, the guy was a bastard, and he didn't care if somebody found him. It would just serve to freak the druggie out even more.

The thought of that made Jason's lips turn up, minimally but still a small smile. It didn't matter how old he was, he would always love to pull stunts.

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**Wow, I hope I got Jason right! If I didn't, I'm welcome to comments and suggestions. It is, after all, my first time writing about him and, even if I do love his character more than any other, I could always screw-up. I do hope you enjoyed it, because I had enjoyed writing it. By the way, I hope the whole "call from the bank, blah blah blah" part was original – if it was not, my sincerest apologies. I thought it was original and funny, and typical of a sarcastic comment Jason would make. If you like this chapter and the idea expressed in the summary, press that adorable little review button. The more reviews, the faster an update. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Who we are,

Isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies.

If I fall, I will rise back up and relive my glory."

-_In the End_ by Black Veil Brides

Jason maneuvered along the city rooftops with ease, expertly leaping and grappling between the buildings. There was a certain freedom that came with running along the tops of buildings. It was a rush, heady and exhilarating. He remembered the first time he had run along Gotham's rooftops, the unfamiliar and unbiased feeling of liberation that had quickly erased any anxieties that had existed beforehand of being so high in the sky with nothing but trust and a grappling hook to keep him from falling to a certain doom.

Though the strength and feelings it brought had faded somewhat over the years, it still made Jason feel alive – something he hardly felt nowadays. Of course, he lived and breathed, but there was a difference in being alive, and _feeling_ alive. To feel alive was wondrous. It was like the weight on his shoulders had been taken away and the memories that often hounded him had disappeared. Alas, it was fleeting. Too soon, he would have to return to the streets, where he couldn't disappear into the motions of running and jumping and forget all about his problems. But the night was drawing to an end, and like the night, all good things must end, too.

Jason turned towards the ratty apartment he currently resided in, not daring to call it 'home'. That was too nice a word for such a decrepit place. He had stayed out longer than usual that night, despite doing nothing more than taking care of a few criminals and spending the rest of his time going from rooftop to rooftop, stopping every now and again to check his surroundings. He was almost surprised to see a glow at the edge of his vision from where the sun was rising. Had he really gotten that lost in the motions that had brought up so many good memories? He had left his apartment later than usual, due to an inconvenience with the plumbing earlier that day, but had expected to be back a lot sooner.

Oh, well. It wasn't as if he something to do anyways. He would probably end up sleeping the majority of the day away.

As his feet hit the roof of an abandoned building that proudly proclaimed 'Gotham Realtors' and a mural of graffiti, a shout caught his attention. He halted, hand automatically reaching for a weapon. Again, someone nearby shouted out and this time, Jason recognized it as a call for help. Jason turned on the heel of his combat boots and started off in the direction from which the call originated.

"Help!" the victim yelled, and Jason picked up his speed. _This guy's pretty loud… why hasn't his assaulter shut him up?_ Once again, someone yelled for 'help', but this time it was cut short. Thankfully, the cry had been from close by, probably the next alleyway. Jason leapt to the roof that towered over the crime-scene, quiet as a mouse.

He chose not to barge in on whatever this confrontation was, instead going for stealth and silently stepping to the roof's edge, kneeling down, a gun in his hand. What he saw, surprised him.

It was an old man – not just old, but ancient, actually – standing above a muscular man about Dick's age. _How the hell does _that_ happen?_ Jason wondered. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. What mattered was saving the victim – what? Just because he wasn't a saint, it didn't mean that he was a bad guy. Not the best, but not the worst, either.

Jason was even more surprised to find that the old man held no weapon, but pleased at the same time. That made things a hell of a lot easier. Carefully, Jason made his way to the ground so silent that, if he was Robin, Batman would have been proud. Well, he wasn't sure Batman was ever proud – at least, of him.

Jason didn't bother to creep up behind the senior citizen, instead choosing to play it 'macho' and come in from the side, boldly striding forward. A few steps away from the man, he clapped his hands sarcastically.

"Well, isn't this a riot?" he said in a light, joking voice tinted with a sharp edge of warning. He looked to the muscular man, recognizing him as a convict that should still be in Blackgate. "It must be pretty humiliating to be seen hiding from some old geezer in his eighties."

At this, the elderly man scoffed and the criminal glared at Jason. That was when the Red Hood saw something that wasn't visible from above. Barely visible beneath the hem of the man's pants, were a pair of shackles that were brought to his attention by the glint of a streetlamp. When he glanced at the man's face, a sharp pang of familiarity hit his stomach. He knew this man from somewhere, but that was the question: where? Where did he know him from? It didn't matter at the moment, though. The silent, pleading look in the man's eyes told him what he needed to know.

This was a set-up.

"Listen, old guy, why don't you go home? I'll take care of him from here." Red Hood smirked.

"What?!" The criminal yelled. "What're you talking about?! You're supposed to help me!"

Jason laughed. "There's only one help for scum like you: a bottle of bleach."

This infuriated the criminal. "What's your problem?! Can't you see I'm in danger here? This guy's trying to kill me?"

"That's the best you've got?" The Red Hood shook his head. "What is it with criminals these days? It's like you're getting dumber and dumber… then again, you probably weren't that smart to begin with."

The guy looked dumbfounded for a moment, and Jason sighed in mock exasperation.

"Do I have to explain _everything_? Listen, shit-face, next time you try to fool someone into thinking that you're in danger – do me a favor, and actually give the supposed 'bad guy' a freaking weapon."

He motioned towards the man's empty hands, hidden like his shackled feet from anyone who was looking from above. He didn't mention that you shouldn't give the prisoner a loaded gun – if the guy was stupid enough to do it, then that would save Jason some time.

The criminal was enraged now that his, badly hidden, plan was discovered. Stupidly, he lunged at Jason who easily sidestepped the tackle before grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, using momentum to throw him backwards. The thug fell onto his back with a grunt. The old man was trying to shuffle away as the criminal got to his feet. Jason knocked him back to the ground with a swift kick in the face. Tired of playing games with the sun's rays starting to become visual through the smog above their heads, Jason pulled out his gun and placed his foot on the man's chest. He locked the gun, then aimed it at the man's face.

"You're working for someone," he stated. "Nobody comes after _me_ if they weren't. Now, we can make this easy and you can tell me the name of your boss, and you might escape, or we can make it hard. Which one?"

"Easy! Easy, I want to make it easy!" the criminal cried out fearfully. Jason rolled his eyes in his mask. All criminals were the same – they liked to act big and tough, but they were worse than whining children when they thought they were going to get hurt.

"Looks like you do have a few brain cells, then," the younger man commented, words laced with thick ribbons of sarcasm. "Alright, tell me then. Who's your boss?"

He had a vague idea of who would be after him, but wanted to be sure. He waited for the man to finish contemplating which was worse – a fate at Jason's hands, or whatever was in store for him when Jason sent him crawling back to his boss to tell him the news.

"Black Mask. It's Black Mask," the man admitted pitifully. "He's pissed about what you did to him. He's got this big reward for whoever brings him the Red Hood's head."

"You're supposed to be in Blackgate right now," Jason reminded him. "So how did it come to pass that you got free, only to come hunt me down?"

"When he was on trial, they put him in Blackgate for a while. The guards there… they don't pay us no mind…"

"And? A little faster, shift-face, my thumb's getting sore and it might just slip and shoot you."

"I'm going, I'm going!" the criminal pleaded. "Please! I'll tell you! Black Mask paid me off! He had a bunch of us fight each other and I always won, so he paid my bail and told me I'd be rich if I brought him you. But I ain't the only one! There's a bunch of other guys coming for you, too!"

"Don't I feel loved?" Jason remarked. He looked down at the man, then released his hold on the gun and put it in its place. "You're lucky. Normally, I'd take you out, but since you've been _so_ helpful, I'll do you a favor and let you live. Besides, once Black Mask finds out about this, he'll do the job for me."

The man sniveled as Jason removed his booted foot. Clumsily, he got up. He took another look at Red Hood before backing away several steps and running off into the night. Jason was used to people coming after him, but it was different when he no longer had Batman's protection. In Crime Alley, as Red Hood, he was alone and could only rely on himself, and himself alone, to defend against the so-called bounty hunters.

"Thank you, young man."

Jason turned, shocked to find that the old man had remained, watching the events transpire. The panic from before was gone, replaced by a look similar to one of someone talking to an old friend. _Doesn't this guy know who he's talking to?_ Jason made a mental note to rebuild his reputation, though he didn't remember its 'badass-ness' ever being ruined.

"Sure, whatever," he replied slowly. The man smiled.

"Not one for formalities, are you, Jason?" he asked. _That_ sent Jason reeling. How did this random guy, who was possibly crazy – he lived in Gotham, didn't he? – know who he was? His hand moved towards the handle of his gun-

"Now, there's no need for that," the man reprimanded gently. Jason, however, disagreed. This guy's creepiness-factor was off the charts. "I am an old friend."

"To be an old friend, I think we'd have to know each other," he retorted, hand never leaving his gun though he didn't raise it.

"We do," the man said, smiling warmly. "Well, I know _you_. We met when you were a small child. Don't you remember me, Jason?"

The Red Hood remembered the spark of familiarity he'd felt when he first saw the man's face, but couldn't place a name to his wizened features.

"Didn't you hear what just came out of my mouth?" he snapped.

"No need for anger, Jason," the man said again, still gentle. "I am only here to help."

"Not what it looked like a minute ago. I recall being the one helping you – not the other way around."

"True," the man laughed. "But I am here to help you. I am a guide, of sorts, sent from someone _very_ special to assist and advise you."

_Somebody's crazy._

"And no, Jason, I am not crazy."

Now, that was just plain-out freaky.

"Er…" Jason, for once in his life, did not have a comeback. Helplessly, his hand fell from where it had previously been holding the gun. "Okay, so if you're not crazy" – _which you are_ – "then what the hell are you supposed to be helping or advising me, or whatever, with?"

"Once again – I am not crazy," the man said, raising a grey eyebrow. "But I will answer your questions. First, let us get off these streets, shall we?"

Jason wanted to protest, but a voice in the back of his head had other plans in mind. Sighing, he nodded. "You already know my name, so what's it going to hurt?"

Half an hour later, Jason and the man were in his apartment. The man had suggested Jason wash up before they talked and the younger man had obeyed, albeit begrudgingly. He had no idea why in the world he would do as the man said, or why the man had any sway over his usual tactics. There was a strange power that the man seemed to hold. It wasn't evil, Jason could tell, but it was powerful. Mighty. Even… dare he even think it? _Holy_. Something seemed holy about the man. _Maybe he's a priest,_ Jason guessed, though he had never felt such a strong presence emanating from any other priest he'd met.

Then again, he hadn't meet very many, had he?

After showering and pulling on more comfortable clothes, Jason slipped a gun into the waistband of his pants and pulled his shirt down over it. The man may not have seemed evil, but Jason had been wrong before.

"Your home is… cluttered," the man commented as Jason stepped into the living-room area, where the stranger sat on his couch. "Not that there's anything wrong with that…"

"Sure," Jason said, in a disbelieving manor. Something told him that he was dealing with an Alfred-like type of person, which meant he couldn't stand the sight of clutter or trash.

"Come, sit and we'll talk," the man said, looking at Jason, who hadn't bothered to move from the doorway. When Jason still didn't move, the man smiled. "I promise you, Jason, that I mean no harm. I understand that you do not trust easily due to your past experiences, but I have never betrayed you."

_Yeah, 'cause you don't know me._

The man sighed. "Must you be so loud when you think? I could hear everything that passed through that overly-sarcastic mind of yours while you were showering."

"Creeper," Jason muttered.

His guest chose not to reply to that. "Jason, please, we don't have much time. You need to make your decision quickly, or else the chance will be gone forever."

"What decision?" Interest piqued, Jason finally sat down next to the man, though he made sure to keep his distance. His suspicion and distrust was clear on his face.

"The decision I am about to tell you of. Though, I assume you want to know my name before I go any further."

"Yeah, I would."

The man nodded. "Of course. My real name, I can't reveal." Jason opened his mouth to argue, but was shushed by a wave of the man's hand. "However, I am widely known by the name Abraxos."

Abraxos? _If that's the name he chose, then his real one must be a stinker. His parents must've hated him._

"Would you please not think such rude things? I can hear you, as you should know by now," Abraxos said, dryly. The first true signs of annoyance were playing on his features. His host wasn't surprised, though – Jason had a knack for annoying people. He considered it a gift.

"Then stop reading my mind."

Abraxos ignored him. "As I said, our time is running out. I must know – if you had the chance to change your past, would you?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

"I said it in plain English. Pay attention!" He was truly irritated now. "I asked, 'if you had the chance to change your past, would you?'"

"Change my past? As in…?"

"Go back, make different choices, and _change your fate_."

Jason thought about it for a moment. Would he? Would he go back to the first time he had lived on these confounded streets as a child? Would he become Robin again? Would he do the opposite of what he did, to do what he should? Would he want to make Bruce proud? Would he want to make Batman proud? _Yes, hell yes._

Though he meant to say no such thing aloud, his mouth opened and he said, "Of course I would."

Abraxos smiled. "I thought so, and He knew so."

"'He'?" Jason looked at him, plainly confused. Abraxos pointed upwards with his index finger. Jason didn't understand at first. All he saw was the roof of his apartment, and beyond that was just the sky, but… Oh. Oh. _Oh!_

"I'm not pulling your leg, Jason," Abraxos told him in earnest. "He has chosen to give you the chance of a lifetime – to go back and to change what happened."

"But why?" For some reason, he believed the man. He couldn't remember what it was like being dead, but it seemed that, in some locked-up memory, that what Abraxos spoke of, was true, that he had seen it with his own eyes. Had he? He almost wanted to think he was crazy, but something – or, he guessed, someone – told him he wasn't.

"For one, He doesn't like that Ra's al Ghul decided to 'play God', as they say. Raising one from the dead is horrible enough, in and of itself, but Ra's has a history of making war with the natural order of things."

"And secondly…?"

"You deserve it, Jason. You're still a good child, though that part of you is buried deep."

"Geez, thanks," Jason rolled his eyes. Abraxos kicked him in the foot.

"Do not roll your eyes," he ordered. "You don't want to be considered ungrateful, do you?"

"And if I am?"

"You can spend the rest of your life living in the Hell that you've made for yourself-"

"HEY!"

"Don't interrupt," Abraxos snapped. "Either you stay here, and be miserable, or you go back and _behave _and do as you should and, perhaps, live a long, wonderful life."

"What do you mean, 'perhaps'?"

"While your destiny is known already to Him, I cannot say what will become of you. There are different choices you can make in life, but they will ultimately wind down to what is already chosen as your fate. I need to know, Jason, quickly – will you or will you not?"

Jason was dumbstruck. "Don't I at least get a day to think it over?!"

"No – you decide now."

"Wait-"

"You have stalled too long already! Either you say 'yes' or you say 'no'. It is simple!"

"Maybe to you!"

"Then perhaps the chance will be given to someone else, someone who will use it!"

"But-"

"Our time is running out! I cannot stay here much longer, Jason. I have many other people to attend to. I need your decision."

"But-"

"If you don't decide by the time that clock strikes eight, your chance is gone!"

Jason glanced at the clock. 7:59. _Shit._ The second-hand was already halfway done. Rattled, he shouted the first thing that came to mind: "Alright, yes! Yes, I'll do it!"

Abraxos relaxed and gave him that warm smile again. "Wonderful."

Then everything went black.

Jason Todd opened his eyes and dropped the object in his hand. Right before him, dimly illuminated by the city lights, was the Batmobile, the front wheel, to no great surprise, missing. He looked down. The object he'd dropped was a rusty tool he'd been using that night… _this night_... Which meant…

He turned his head to find that his assumption was true. There, standing only a few feet away, was Batman.

* * *

**AN: Talk about a rapid-fire update! This thing's a monster! I worked on it forever. (Not really, but whatevs…)**

**First things first: No, this is not a religious story. No, I'm not apologizing – I'm not a religious person (C'mon, I listen to rock music!), but I do believe in God. My reasons for using religion in this story is that it worked perfectly with the plot line. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. I'm not holding a gun to your head. I will say, however, that any hate will not be appreciated. I respect all opinions, so I would like it if you'd respect mine as well.**

**On to sunnier topics, now. Okay, so the name 'Abraxos' **_**is**_** an angel name. I did my research like a good little author and found it. Pretty cool name, huh? Okay, I'm not going to annoy you with some giant AN, so I'll finish up.**

**Thanks for reading my story and I hope that you enjoyed this second chapter! I know the genre says 'Hurt/Comfort', but listening to the Black Keys and drinking way too much sweet tea (it's a southern thing, lol) got me super hyped. I, personally, like how it turned out. I hope you do, too. **

**Please review! The more reviews, the faster an update! (For real, this time!) Thanks, peeps! I love the wonderful things you have to say!**

**AN: Nope, still don't own Batman. **

**P.S. I hope I got Jason right!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Sweet dreams are made of this,

Who am I to disagree?"

-_Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) _by Emily Browning (Cover)*

"_Bruce._"

Seven seconds passed in tense silence, elongated by the clashing emotions warring in Jason's chest, before the young man-turned-boy was swallowed by blackness. Despite all the trials and tribulations he'd been through, there was nothing that could prepare him for this moment, that could stop the shock and disbelief of seeing Bat- no, _Bruce_ – like this: young(er) and not completely destroyed by the dark future that his path would eventually lead him to. He hadn't been completely consumed by his owner monster, the Batman, yet. He was still the man that had laughed at Jason's jokes, the man that had stayed home and watched movies with him when he was sick.

He was just _Bruce _and it was just too much.

Batman moved into action the instant he saw the boy sway and was only just in time to catch him as he fell. Concern washed over him as he looked down at the unconscious boy, eyes closed and mouth slightly open as if he'd whispered a secret. There was something familiar about this boy. _Maybe he's the son of a criminal I put away_, his logical mind suggested. But no, that wasn't it. It couldn't be it. He had seen the children of criminals before, but none had managed to pull at his heartstrings like this one. Something inside him broke at the mere sight of the boy, for reasons he couldn't explain.

Bruce quickly checked the boy's vitals and, finding everything to be normal, decided that his fainting spell was due to being discovered while trying to steal the tire and being overwhelmed.

_What now?_ The Bat asked himself. The boy was malnourished and probably dehydrated as well, with his body covered in bruises and cuts. Clearly, the boy had no home to be returned to. Maybe he should take him to Leslie's, let her check him out and make sure he's alright. Maybe he should take him straight to the Boy's Home.

_Or maybe, take him back to the cave_, a little voice said in the back of his mind. Bruce blinked, surprised at himself. Take him back to the cave? Yes, he felt unusually sorry for the boy, but that didn't mean he was crazy enough to risk taking some random street kid to the _Batcave_. He shook his head. No, it was to Leslie's to make sure he was fine, then straight to the Boy's Home. No if's, and's, or but's.

_He's more than some street kid, though_, the little voice prompted. _No normal kid would dare to even attempt to steal a tire off the Batmobile. _Then he must be dumb, Batman told himself. _Or very brave. Gotham could use another brave Robin…_

Bruce thought of Dick, who'd left to join the Titans as a full-time member. Being Batman hadn't been the same without him.

That didn't mean he could pick up this kid and give him the mantle, though. He was taking him to Leslie's, then the Boy's Home. That was that.

_He could pass as Dick, though. He's got black hair, a similar complexion. The major contrast is their eye color, but that would be covered up by the mask._

No. He wasn't going to-

_What harm could it do to at least see if the kid even possessed the moral qualities, or a willingness to learn? If he doesn't want to, then that's it. It's finished. But if he does, then a new Robin could be patrolling these streets, which means doubling the number of lives saved._

But-

_Besides, what chance does he have in a Boy's Home? Becoming another criminal that will have to be locked up? He's already got the thief-part down, who knows what he would do as an adult? Kill someone? Do drugs, sell drugs? As Robin, he'd be saved from that walk of life and Blackgate will be saved from having to house yet another prisoner._

* * *

Batman put the boy in the Batmobile, quickly fixed the tire, and then roared away. On the rooftop above, Abraxos was smirking to himself. He'd been sent back to make sure everything went well, at least for a little while, and to explain a few ground rules he'd forgotten to mention back at Jason's apartment. It wasn't as if he was missing his appointments if he was in the past, anyways. Too, he genuinely wondered what new road Jason would be led down. Would he be successful in his quest to remake himself, or would he fall short?

_He'd better not fall short after all I did for him while-ago,_ Abraxos thought to himself, turning away from the alley and stalking cross the rooftop. It was easy to read minds, but a whole different story when you were actually altering someone's thinking. Particularly, if that person was as stubborn as the Batman. He'd been successful, though, in convincing him to take in the wayward street rat. With his part done, the rest would be up to Jason and his family.

* * *

***Original song by The Eurythmics. Emily Browning's darker version seemed to fit this story better, though.**

**So sorry this is such a short chapter, but this has been extremely difficult to write. It's taken a long time to post as well, which I'm sorry for. I hope this chapter is up to par with your expectations, but at least there will be future ones, so I'll have the chance to amp up my game if I totally screwed up. Besides, now that the initial meeting is over, the rest should be super fun to write.**

**Thanks to all the follows, favorites, and reviews. They make me so happy I could do an Irish jig! Hope you liked this installment, and I promise that the next chapters won't be so short! It just seemed like this was the place to stop at, though, so until next time – adieu, and R&amp;R.**

**(BTW, I took some inspiration from the Dark Knight movies, so… yep. Also, in case you haven't noticed, I'm using Jason's original storyline up till he takes the mantle of Robin for his past, but mainly using 'Under the Red Hood' and 'Red Hood &amp; the Outlaws' (New52) for his personality. All other characters are pre-52. Except Abraxos, 'cuz I actually own him.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"And felled in the night,

By the ones you think you love,

They will come for you."

-_Daniel in the Den_ by Bastille

Jason hovered on the edge of consciousness, faintly aware of the world around him. The smooth fabric of a cot pressed against his skin and the dull hum of machines threatened to lull him back to sleep. It was oddly… comforting. Familiar, that's what it was. It was the first time he'd woken up in a long time without the sounds of Crime Alley assaulting any peace that may have existed in his mind. For the first time in forever, he didn't hear criminals yelling and children crying in the apartment below.

He breathed in deeply and let the air escape from his lips. He'd recognize this place without opening his eyes. The smell, the sounds, the taste in his mouth when he breathed in. They were all familiar. They were all reminiscent of the days he'd spent training, working, _fighting _to be someone. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the Batcave. Almost as much as he missed the lazy days in the Manor when he was just a part of the family. Not Robin, not some reformed street kid. Just Jason.

There had been too few of those days.

He opened his eyes and sat up. Neither the Bat nor Alfred were anywhere to be seen, but he knew there were cameras watching him. For the first time, he really took stock of how much smaller he was – and the hungry pang in his stomach. It was true. He was a kid again.

He slid off the bed, surprised at the wobbliness he felt as his feet hit the ground at first. How long had he been asleep?

Groggily, he shuffled out of the infirmary. He knew where the Bat would be. As he walked, and his mind cleared, he wondered if he should act as if he were in awe of his surroundings. It would probably be more convincing that way. He blinked several times, looking up and staring with his mouth slightly agape, pretending as if he thought the cave was the _coolest_ thing he'd ever seen.

He continued with his charade till he saw _him_. Batman. Bruce. The man was paying him no attention, though he obviously knew that Jason was lurking just behind him as he typed away on the computer. He'd kept the cowl on to cover his face. Clearly, he didn't want to reveal his identity just yet. But Jason knew Bruce, knew that there was some reason for him to be brought here instead of to a hospital or a boy's home.

So he just stood there, waiting for Batman to make his move, his mind cluttered with too many memories to count. He thought about how he tried to scare Bruce their first night out, how the trick had worked on Alfred but had been lost on his father. But Bruce had smiled, though. He'd stopped smiling by the end of it all.

Suddenly, Jason didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be around this man, or in this cave, or anywhere near Gotham at all. He remembered trying _so damn hard_ to be good enough. To be the best Robin. To prove that Bruce wasn't a fool in thinking that he could handle it. All in vain. _Because he replaced me like he replaced the batteries in the remote._

He _hated _Bruce. Hated him for what he did, what he'd done. He didn't even care enough about him to choose _him_ over that piece of trash, Joker. He was just going to walk away. All he wanted was to put Jason in Arkham.

And even if this was the past, how was that going to change things?! If he wasn't good enough before, how was he good enough now? Hell, Bruce hated him more than ever now! How stupid was he to actually agree to this?

"You can come over." Batman's voice sliced through his thoughts. Jason looked up, to see the Bat watching his reflection against the dark computer screen. He felt so _stupid_. Being here, now, just ripped open the already bleeding wounds even more. But he obeyed. He shuffled over. He might as well try, hadn't he? It wasn't like he could magically go back to the future. Abraxos had said so himself.

There really was no point in second-guessing himself now that he'd already made his choice. There wasn't a magical 'rewind' button he could push.

"You don't seem like the type of kid to be so quiet," Batman commented, still not looking at him. Jason didn't respond to that. It was a rare moment when he wasn't so sure about what to say.

"Why did you bring me here?" Jason finally asked. It sounded like the kind of clichéd line he should say and he was, actually, wondering it. Why did Bruce bring him here? The first time he tried to throw him off on the Boy's Home. What was different now? _Abraxos probably had something to do with it_, he guessed. It made sense. The man, or angel, or whatever he was, seemed like the meddling type, despite his refinement.

Batman made a sound that was almost like a sigh. "To be honest, I don't even know."

Jason was surprised. He'd expected some short, curt response or a lecture, or both. Not… this. Batman didn't just admit when he didn't know something. He was the quintessential 'know-it-all'. Jason almost wanted to laugh.

"I thought the Batman was supposed to know everything," he finally replied. When he caught himself, he added, "At least, that's what the papers and TV people make it sound like."

Bruce snorted. "I do." He turned his chair so that he looked at Jason.

"That's impossible," Jason replied. "You just admitted you didn't know why you brought me here."

"I do know," Bruce replied slowly. "I'm just not sure about how to go about… explaining it."

The weight and anger in Jason's chest seemed to be fading as he moved closer to Batman. "That's nice. Should I be scared? Is this my cue to start running around and screaming hysterically because I can't get out?"

To his surprise, Bruce actually laughed. "No, nothing like that."

Jason was at war with himself. He wanted to slip into his old role, into the Jason that had been light-hearted (well, as light-hearted as he'd ever been) and that had joked and laughed and spent days on end teasing his father. But that part of him, that person he used to be, was in a battle with the person he was – the person he'd become. The Jason who hated Bruce, the one who'd stopped impressing Batman with his quick wit and humorous antics ages ago. The Jason that had been betrayed, whose trust had been broken, who'd sworn vengeance.

"Well, that's a relief," he said at length. "But, seriously… aren't you… angry?"

"I wasn't angry to begin with," Bruce replied. That hardly seemed like a rock-solid fact, but Jason rolled with it. "Actually, I was impressed. Most kids your age wouldn't have the guts to try and steal from the Bat himself." _Still pretty arrogant_, Jason thought.

"Most kids my age wouldn't even know the right tools to get a tire off," he told him. "But that doesn't explain-"

"I'm getting to that part," Bruce cut him off. "You want to tell me your name first, though?" Jason knew it was a ploy, to see if he'd lie. Batman already knew he was. He was _Batman_. He'd probably known mere minutes after he got back to the cave. After all, a quick search and he'd find where Jason had been caught stealing early on in his so-called criminal career. The only time he'd been caught, though – which was something Jason was almost proud of.

"Jason Todd."

Bruce nodded. "Your parents – what happened to them? Are they alive?"

"No, they're dead." He didn't want to elaborate, especially since he knew that Bruce probably had this information already too.

"Where do you live?" This question was earnest. That was the one thing no records had, because Jason lived nowhere but on the streets and in the occasional abandoned apartment complex.

"I don't have a home," he replied. He got the feeling that he knew where this conversation was headed, but to appear realistic, he added, "But I'm not going to any stupid Boys' Home if that's what you're thinking."

He glared, for show. Batman shook his head. "That's now what I had in mind, exactly."

"Then what _do_ you have in mind?"

Bruce stood up. "Come with me."

* * *

**So, yep – Jason's not so sure about this 'second chance' thing anymore. But who would be? This chapter was mostly about his warring emotions with a small part of plot thrown in – but it had to be done. After all, Jason can be adequately described as an emotional character. His emotions are what usually play a huge role in his decisions, so it figures that he'd be at war with himself. Sorry it this was a bit boring, by the way **** Things should pick up next chapter, but I'm not making any promises (At least this one **_**was**_** longer than last time)**

**Thanks to all who've reviewed, followed, and/or favorited! I hope you guys continue to like it! Please leave a review! Until next time, I bid you a good day/night**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I'm scared 'cause the past,

Keeps pulling me back,

Distorting the future.

It's holding me close,

It loves me the most,

It's tearing the sutures.

It won't let me heal,

It tells us what's real,

There is no truth there."

-_The Razor's Edge_ by Digital Daggers

It was suddenly hard to walk forward. Jason had managed to follow the Bat this far, but now he was frozen at the edge of the raised platform. Only ten feet away, preserved in a glass case as a sort of homage to the past, was the original Robin suit. How many nights had he spent in a similar get-up, chasing the criminals, so proud of himself when he caught them?

_I really didn't think this through…_ Jason forced his thoughts away from the past. This was a new beginning, right? Technically, those memories only existed in his mind now. They weren't _real_. Not anymore. But that didn't lessen the pain. A person couldn't go through what he had, and not end up scarred. They weren't wounds that he could put a Band-Aid over and wait a couple of days to heal. They were forever. Infinite.

"That's the Robin suit?" Jason stepped forward, attempting to rein back his emotions. The Batman, standing nearby, nodded. "Whose idea was it to not include pants?" _Seriously, how did I wear that? _He guessed it had something to do with being young (and without the mentality of an eighteen year old).

"Definitely not mine," Bruce replied.

"Robin's?" Jason suggested, reminded of his so-called older brother. They'd never gotten along well, spending entire days bickering over little things that didn't even matter. That was something he had to change this time, no matter how annoying Dick was.

"It was his choice." Bruce's eyes were focused on the suit, but Jason knew he wasn't really looking at it. He was thinking, long and hard, about something that Jason didn't want to discuss. But if they had to, then he wanted to get it over with.

"That's wonderful and all, but what does Robin have to do with me and why you brought me here?" Jason demanded, walking into Bruce's line of vision so that the man was forced to look at him. His curtness was clearly not appreciated by the Bat, who gave him an annoyed glare, but who chose the higher road nonetheless.

"A lot," Bruce answered, "so I'm going to be short and to the point." He paused, and Jason knew he was re-weighing the risks and rewards involved with what was about to be said. "When I first found you stealing my tire, my first inclination was to take you straight to the boy's home. Maybe I should have." _Ouch_. "But, like I said, that was a risky move. Most kids wouldn't be able to find the courage to do it."

"Which means…?" Caught in between the urge to get this done, to get it out in the open, and the need for Bruce to miraculously change his mind and ship him back to Gotham, Jason was becoming increasingly antsy, even nauseous.

This was one of those times that he wished he had the ability to just ignore his emotions. To lock them away, to not let them get the best of him. That was the one skill he'd never quite conquered, though.

Batman laid a hand on his shoulder. "I think you have what it takes to be the new Robin."

For the second time in the past thirty minutes, Jason didn't know what to say, nor what he should do. The part of him that was thrilled, that inner child that resided in the deepest parts of him, was quickly overpowered by conflicting thoughts and emotions that left him hopelessly confused.

"Really?" Jason asked dumbly.

"Really." Noticing the lack of expected enthusiasm, Bruce pulled his hand away. "Something wrong?"

"What? No," Jason lied. He forced his memories to the back of his mind, placing a wall between the then, and the now, so that he could focus on the task at hand. For the time being, his salvation rested on this conversation. He could worry about second-thoughts later.

He made himself smile. "I just can't believe I'm actually going to be _Robin._ How cool is that?"

Bruce smiled in return, but Jason could see the newly sowed doubt in his eyes. "I'm guessing 'very cool', but don't get too far ahead of yourself. There's a lot of training, and hard work, before you even try on the suit. You might change your mind."

He was already considering doing that exact thing when he said, "Trust me, I won't."

* * *

Bruce couldn't believe what he'd just done. The fact that he'd just given a random kid off the street the opportunity to be Robin – especially when Jason's trustworthiness was yet to be proven – was evidence that he'd certainly begun to lose his sanity. What was done was done, though. He couldn't exactly go up to the boy and say 'I've changed my mind' then drop him off on the doorstep of the Boys' Home. Well, actually he could…

Begrudgingly, Bruce made himself stop considering that option. He really did think that Jason could handle Robin, and the kid didn't seem like the type to go running his mouth. Still, there was something odd about Jason Todd. Like before, he felt like he should recognize the pre-teen. Jason, as a matter of fact, acted like he already knew Bruce. He wasn't freaking out - he was calm. Which definitely wasn't the reaction Batman usually received. That wasn't the only strange quirk about Jason, though. He seemed to have a habit of drifting off into his own thoughts, which brought a pained expression to his face before he seemed to realize its existence and hid it away.

Bruce assumed it was something to do with his past, which brought him back to the problem of Jason's living situation. Whether he liked it or not, Jason didn't have anywhere else to go but Wayne Manor. Which was fine, in and of itself. His problem was, could he trust Jason not to tell his secret to the entire city?

_What would Alfred do?_ Bruce glanced at Jason, who sat several feet away on the workbench, lost in thought once again. The clear and obvious choice was to talk to him. Find mutual ground. If he was taking Jason on, then he'd have to be a parental figure, as Alfred was to him.

_He won't talk straightforward to me with the cowl on._ With an inward sigh, Bruce pulled the material from his face and walked over to the bench.

"Mind if I sit down?" He asked. Jason glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw what was missing. It quickly disappeared before he nodded.

"You're Bruce Wayne?" Jason asked as Bruce sat, a bit down from him.

Taking note of the lack of surprise, Bruce nodded. "I guess you see why I have to wear the cowl now."

"Because the whole East Coast knows your face?"

"Exactly." Bruce thought for a moment, trying to think of something they would have in common till it came to mind – the very thing he hated to discuss. "It must have been hard living on the streets, after you lost your parents."

"Yeah," Jason replied. Something dark came over his features. "But I got through it."

"That's no small feat," Bruce acknowledged. "You know, I was actually around your age when my parents were… killed." He ignored the pain that came with talking about the subject, remembering the goal of this conversation.

"But you had a butler. A mansion. A shitload of money," Jason replied sourly. "Everything you could want. All I had was the clothes on my back."

Jason's reaction struck a nerve and Bruce tried his best to not acknowledge it. "I would have given up everything to have my parents back, Jason."

"Too bad that's not how it works, huh? Money can't buy everything."

This conversation wasn't going how Bruce pictured it. Instead of finding mutual ground, he'd quickly become the object of Jason's disdain. As if everything wrong with the world was his fault, when he was just trying to help him.

"No, it can't," Bruce replied, trying to hide his aggravation. "I just wanted to let you know I understand."

The second the words left his lips and the soundwaves hit Jason's ears, the boy stood up. He turned on Bruce savagely, tears pooling in his eyes for an unknown reason.

"You don't understand a damned thing!" he snarled. "You have no idea what it's really like. You think because your parents died that it gives you a right to be like… to be like _this_! People lose their parents every day but they got it way worse than you! You don't understand anything."

* * *

The instant Jason said it, he regretted it. The look on Bruce's face, wide-eyed for probably the first time in a long time, was enough to tell him he'd pushed a little too far._ What the hell did I just do?_ He couldn't help himself, though. So much just collided at once and he had to let it out. Too bad that meant he probably just blew what little chances he had.

"Bruce…?" He asked softly when the man neglected to say anything at all. The surprise was gone from his face, replaced by a concrete wall that hid any and all emotions. _I need to fix this. Quick._ "Bruce… I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Bruce stood, towering over him in a way that made Jason feel tiny. Unexpectedly, the only reply was, "Its fine." For some reason, Jason had hoped he'd start yelling. Give him a reason to obliterate the guilt that had started to consume him.

"But… I said all that terrible stuff…" _Am I really asking him to yell at me?_ Jason couldn't believe himself.

"Like I said, it's fine." Bruce walked away from him, and Jason thought he was about to go to the Batmobile so that he could drag him to the orphanage when Bruce headed in the opposite direction. Towards the entrance to Wayne Manor.

_Is this seriously happening right now?_ Jason couldn't believe his eyes. Bruce didn't just do… whatever it was he'd just done. _Is he guilt-tripping me?_ He didn't have time to think over that possibility before being called over by the man in question himself.

"What is it?" he asked, his meekness not an act this time.

"It's almost three in the morning."

"Which means?"

"Infirmary or guest room? Your choice."

* * *

Jason lay in his new/old bedroom. Unsurprisingly, this was the exact same room he'd had at Wayne Manor before. He didn't mind, though. Laying down was a refresher after the day's events. And if talking to Bruce hadn't worn him out completely, then Alfred had. The instant they'd been 'introduced' Alfred had set into his usual role. The first thing to be done was a shower (which meant borrowing some old clothes of Dick's packed in a box in the attic), a long list of rules, a quick healthy supper, then finally bed. It didn't sound like much, but it wasn't until four that Jason finally crawled into his bed. Bruce had made his escape an hour before.

Which reminded him of Bruce's strange forgiveness…

"You can thank me for that."

Jason jumped out of bed at the sound of the voice, the scare sending his heart beating a hundred miles a second.

"Abraxos?!" He asked, amazed – and a little freaked out – to see the 'man' next to his window. He glared. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking? Because it's pretty creepy for an old man to be in a kid's bedroom at night like that."

Abraxos rolled his eyes. "For your information, I only just arrived. You're welcome, by the way. I had no intentions of intervening with you and your father's affairs once again, but you loused up with that little episode in the cave so badly that I had to."

"He's not my father," Jason retorted, not feeling quite in the mood for an argument. _That's a first._

"He raised you, did he not?" Abraxos replied. Jason opened his mouth to argue, but he was waved off. "No more of this petty bickering. I don't have time."

"Then what are you here for?" Jason asked, starting to relax once again.

"It seems that I didn't tell you about a few rules for this little endeavor of yours," Abraxos admitted, looking a bit ashamed. Jason didn't like that look. It only meant one thing: bad news. He felt his stomach churning.

"Rules? What happens if I break them?" Jason didn't even want to know what was about to come out of the man's mouth. He was already dreading it.

"I'm sure you won't break them, they're very simple to follow," Abraxos evaded. "Nothing too complicated, not really. But…"

"But?"

"But if you should, your second chance is over."

Jason frowned, his heart stopped. "What are you talking about? How is that possible?"

"What I mean is that if you break too many rules, then things will go straight back to the way they were before you ever 'saved' me from that crook."

* * *

**Ooh, cliffhanger! Not really. Anyways, I'm super-duper sorry it took so long to update (life problems, y'know?) and also sorry if characters seemed a bit OOC. I spent a long time writing and re-writing until I came to this. Still not entirely sure, but its way better than original. By the way, I know I promised some talk on second-thoughts in this chapter, but it's going to have to wait until I can publish next time. For this chapter, the main goal became getting that stubborn plot moving. Hopefully, it won't take as long this time for me to update **

**Thanks to all you wondrous folks out there who've read this and kept up with it, who've favorited and/or followed, and all the reviewers! **


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've updated, but I was very busy till January and then… well, writer's block and Netflix. So yeah, sorry about that. Thank you so much for your favorites and reviews, though, and I hope this chapter is up to snuff for you all! **

**A little info for this chapter: in one of the first Batman comics (3 or 4), it's mentioned that there's a 'Drake Museum'. :)**

**Warning: Not-so-nice words will be said (or, actually, written).**

* * *

_Rule One: You must never tell anyone about your past life._

_Rule Two: You must never take another life._

_Rule Three: Fight the good fight – don't help the evildoers, no matter what their reasons or who they are._

_Rule Four: Protect the weak._

_Rule Five: Fight for justice, _real_ justice – not your own definition._

Chapter 6

"Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.

You have to let go at some point in order to move forward."

– C.S. Lewis

Alfred Pennyworth wasn't quite sure what had possessed Bruce to take in a street boy who he'd never even met before stopping the attempted burglary of his tires, but he was fairly positive that logic had little to do with it. A rare occurrence for the Bat, who was famed for his cool intelligence and steely exterior. Alfred could only assume that Bruce had seen something special in the boy that he could not.

Jason Todd was a foul-mouthed, sarcastic, irritable boy. He knew that about the child within minutes of their meeting. The pre-teen had been making a lazy attempt at hiding it, but it was plain as day. It wasn't this that worried Alfred about their new family addition, though. It was the anger. In moments when he thought no one was watching, a darkness came over his features that rivaled that of the Bat himself.

A seething hatred that was so strong that it was plain as day to the trained eye. Alfred commented on this to Bruce the morning after Jason's arrival as he made the breakfast.

"He's had a difficult life," Bruce replied, sipping his black coffee and scanning over the newspaper, hunting for clues that tied back to current cases like he sometimes did.

"It doesn't worry you, sir?" Alfred asked, flipping a pancake.

"I'm keeping an eye on him, Alfred."

"I trust you are."

Several minutes later, the subject of their conversation entered, looking worse than he had when he'd gone to bed. Jason raised bloodshot eyes to Alfred and yawned out a, "Mornin', Alfie."

"Good morning, Master Jason," Alfred replied slowly, gazing quizzically at the boy. "Did you not sleep well?"

"Slept fine," Jason replied, as he yawned again. He climbed onto the stool next to Bruce, hardly shy at all – another characteristic that bugged Alfred about the boy. He turned to Bruce. "Hi, old man."

"Hello, Jason," Bruce replied. "You look exhausted."

Jason shrugged. "'m good." He accepted his breakfast and a glass of orange juice from Alfred with a mumbled 'thanks'.

"You're welcome, sir," Alfred replied, turning to wash the dishes. "I will be going into town today for some shopping. Would you like to accompany me, Master Jason?"

"I guess, yeah."

* * *

"Have you heard back from that dealer in London?"

"Not yet, dear." Jack and Janet Drake were spending the day with their only son, in a – failing – attempt at normalcy. It wasn't often that they spent leisurely time as a family, and even when they did, their conversations always strayed back to business. At some point, the Gotham power couple had loved one another, but now it was their work that kept them together. Their continued coexistence certainly wasn't because of Tim.

"Tell Margery to call him," Janet ordered, roughly tugging on her son's hand to pull his attention away from the shelf of books. Tim stumbled and bumped into her leg, but he was ignored. "This is the last time we work with that man, I swear it."

Jack sighed. "The museum is failing, Janet, and he's one of the few who'll still work with us. We need him, whether we like it or not."

Janet just sniffed impatiently. "And whose fault is that, Jack?"

Her husband didn't reply.

Tim was having difficulty keeping up with his mother. Truth be told, he didn't like going places with them. He loved his parents, of course, because they were his parents, but they spent very little time with him and what time they did, was hardly enjoyable. Jack and Janet were strict. They had high expectations of their son and expected him to be perfect in every way.

They weren't cruel, but they were far from the loving parents buying their children ice cream at the food court.

Tim could tell by his mother's pursed lips that this shopping trip was over. She guided him out of the bookshop, his father lagging behind, distracted by his thoughts. The shopping mall was flooded with people, pushing past them and rushing to their destinations.

In the crowd, Tim lost sight of his father and he found it even more difficult to stay close to his mother. A woman roughly shoved past them and her bag slapped Tim in the face. His hand slipped from Janet's and he fell to the floor. She didn't even notice his absence, too preoccupied with herself. Tim got back up and struggled to catch up with her, but then a family of six with rowdy children cut between him and Janet and he was shoved back and farther away.

When he got his bearings back, his mother was gone and his father was lost.

* * *

Jason was too preoccupied with thoughts about Abraxos' set of rules to pay much mind to Alfred or the clothes the butler was holding up for inspection. Unless it was something absolutely unbearable, Jason would just nod in consent. He wanted to get back to Wayne Manor. He still had a lot of things to sort through, mentally, and the constant cacophony of noise that came with the shopping mall didn't help his headache at all.

He thought that Alfred had chosen this as a shopping destination in an attempt to reach out, to put Jason in a more familiar situation, because this certainly wasn't a place frequented by Wayne's or the old British man.

"How about this sweater, Master Jason? You'd look very handsome in it," Alfred suggested helpfully, pointing it out. It was red, a deep crimson color. Thanks to his previous choices, Alfred seemed to have picked up on the fact that he had a preferred color pallet.

"Yeah, I like it," Jason said. He was bored and tired, not a good combination. Alfred picked up the sweater and finally decided that they had got enough. Jason waited by the exit as the man paid, watching the people that passed by with disinterest.

Abraxos had warned him that he'd have to forgive Bruce if he had any hope of succeeding in this life. And Jason had told him that there was no way in hell that he'd _ever_ be doing that. Forgiving Bruce was the one thing that he couldn't do.

He could play the game, ignore the memories and the anger and the hatred, but he couldn't forgive.

_"Then, I'm afraid, you're already doomed to fail."_

Jason thought about it, about his already being destined to fail. Why wasn't he surprised? He'd never been good at succeeding. His first bout as Robin was proof of that. He wondered, would his fate be different if he chose to refuse the suit? It wasn't like he'd begun his training yet.

But there was a sensible part of Jason, cold and detached from the turmoil that was himself, that told him that was impossible. Jason was too far gone from the realms of normalcy to ever live like other people. Robin had been his life. And when he'd died and awoken to find that ripped away from him, the only way to be a person – and not some useless shell – was to don another suit.

In that way, he was like Bruce. The Red Hood was who he truly was, like Batman was who Bruce truly was.

He sighed, melancholy. He didn't remember what it was like as a dead man, but sometimes he wondered if it was better.

A hand tugged at his jacket sleeve and he looked down. A boy was staring up at him, large blue eyes watery. Jason's stomach turned. _Shit. Something's happened._ He knelt down, the instincts that had made him save the lives of countless Gotham citizens taking over.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?" Jason asked.

The boy rubbed his eyes. "I can't find Mother."

Jason blinked. The kid had just called his mom 'Mother'. Who did that, anymore? A closer look at the boy and he felt recognition. He knew this kid. But, from where?

"Don't worry, I'll find her for you," Jason promised. "What's your name?"

"Timothy Drake," the boy said, smiling nervously. "What's yours?"

Jason barely heard him. Timothy Drake? Not _the_ Timothy Drake? The Replacement? The little bastard that _stole_ his suit? It took every ounce of self-control for him to not throw the sweet little boy through the nearest window.

"Jason," he answered tensely. Tim sensed the change in atmosphere and he backed away slightly. Jason sighed and rubbed his face with his palm. He had to do the right thing here. It wasn't Tim's fault that he'd grow up and become Jason's replacement. Not yet, anyways.

Besides, there was a rule he'd be breaking if he didn't.

"C'mon, Timmy," Jason told him, holding out a hand. "Let's find your mommy."

Tim tentatively took his hand.

"I have to go see Alfred first, though," Jason informed him as he led the way over to where the butler was gathering their bags. "He's… my dad's butler."

Calling Bruce his dad felt wrong on so many levels. But it also felt right.

"Alfred!" Jason called, catching the old man's attention. He did a double-take when he saw the kid.

"Master Jason, who is this?" Alfred asked wearily.

"His name's Timmy and he's got separated from his mom," Jason answered. "I told him I'd find her."

Alfred nodded. "Perhaps we should find the security? They could locate your mother for you, lad."

Tim nodded. "Please. Mother won't be happy if I don't find her soon." Alfred raised an eyebrow at that while Jason's grip tightened. He remembered reading up on Janet and Jack Drake when doing research on his rival. They seemed like the type of assholes to blame their son for everything.

Damn. He was not going to feel sorry for the little shit.

"Don't fear, Master Timothy, we'll have you with her soon," Alfred said gently. "Come, let's go."

He took the bags of clothes they'd brought for Jason and guided the way out of the store and into the hustle and bustle of mall-goers. Unlike Janet, Jason kept a firm grasp on Tim and kept his pace at speed slow enough for the boy.

It wasn't long till they located mall security and Jack and Janet Drake's name was being called over the intercom. Tim sat next to Jason on a bench as they waited for the Drakes, Alfred standing to the side, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Tim hadn't let go of Jason's hand yet.

"Thank you," Tim told Jason quietly. He looked scared and Jason thought about how he'd said his mother wouldn't be happy if _Tim_ hadn't found _her_. The bitch.

"Don't worry about it, Tim-bo," Jason said gently. It wasn't as hard as he'd like it to be to like the kid.

Finally, both Drakes appeared. Janet stormed past Alfred and security and snatched Timothy roughly from his spot. Jason automatically jumped to his feet, almost grabbing the boy and taking him back.

"Where were you?!" Janet demanded, looking ready to shake Tim senseless with her hands squeezing his shoulders way too tight. The security and Alfred were too busy talking with Jack to notice.

"I fell and I got lost," Tim whimpered. He started to cry. "I'm sorry, Mother. I tried to find you, but I couldn't."

Janet looked even more pissed, not even paying attention to his explanation. "I am so disappointed in you, Timothy. We are going home and you won't be coming shopping with us for a while."

"Hey!" Jason interjected. He couldn't help it. Who did this woman think she was? "It's not his fault. You're his mom. It's your job to keep track of him, not the other way around."

She turned on him, examining him like he was a spider she wanted to stomp. "Stay out of this, boy. This isn't any of your business."

"Like hell it isn't!" Jason argued. "You can't treat him like that!" Was he really defending Timothy Drake? Hell must have frozen over without anyone realizing it.

"I will treat him as I wish. He is my son and he is at fault," Janet snapped.

"No, he isn't!"

Tim looked between the two of them, clearly afraid. His tears were pouring freely down his cheeks now. The other occupants of the small security office had turned to watch the scene now, but Jason didn't care and Janet didn't notice.

"I will not be spoken to like that by an insolent little boy!" Janet raised her hand, like she was about to slap him.

Jason's hands balled into fists and he looked her square in the eye. "Try it, lady, and you'll have Bruce Wayne to answer to."

That stopped her. Her eyes widened in surprise and she lowered her hand. Jason knew she was still pissed, but she'd be a fool to mess with anyone under Wayne's protection. He was glad, for the first time in a while, of his connection to the crown prince of Gotham.

Janet just glared at him like a spoiled little girl who'd just been called down and grabbed Tim's hand. She dragged him away, Jack saying a quick apology to keep up face before running after her. Jason watched Tim as he struggled behind her, feeling like he should run after them and save Tim from whatever punishment awaited him.

_He's the Replacement_. The reminder did nothing to quell his anger or stop the strange feeling of protectiveness he felt for the little boy. He may have hated Tim, or the future Tim, but that little boy was just a little boy.

And Jason had been in a similar situation one too many times.

"Come along, Master Jason," Alfred said, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. "Let's go home, shall we?"

* * *

**I guess you all figured what was going to happen thanks to that bit of info in the AN, right? I hope you liked his introduction into the story! Dick won't be coming in for another chapter or so, but dear little Timmy's got an important role in the plot. Still have some chapters to go before he becomes a regular character though. Anyways, thanks for reading and I will try – no promises – to not take so long to update next time! **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Bring me home in a blinding dream,

Through the secrets that I have seen.

Wash the sorrow from off my skin,

And show me how to be whole again."

-_Castle of Glass _by Linkin Park

Jason expected Bruce to be angry, or at least upset with how he'd handled the situation with the Drakes. Even Jason could see that he hadn't handled Janet Drake very well. He was certain that, thanks to him, Timothy was in even more trouble than before. That's how people like Janet Drake worked – they threw all their anger and frustration on whoever served as the best scapegoat. For someone with a temperament like hers, even an innocent seven year old served as ample prey.

There was an uneasy feeling of guilt that had settled in Jason's stomach, one he tried to ignore. _That kid's the Replacement. Besides, he has to be made of pretty stern stuff to have made it with the Bat for so long._ Tim would be just fine without Jason's interference.

As he laid up in his bedroom, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind drifted to thoughts of the future. How would it be altered? Would the same crimes happen, the same crises, the same arguments? And what about the Replacement? What would happen to him if Jason didn't die? _Will Bruce still replace me with him?_

Jason swore, if that bastard tried to pull such a stunt, he didn't care if he was damning himself back to the Hood mask – he was breaking every bone in Bruce Wayne's body.

And Dick... a working relationship with the acrobat was now a priority for Jason. Not that he looked forward to it. He despised Dick Grayson, with every fiber in his being, and he knew Dick felt the same way. Sucking up to the ex-Robin's major ego was _not_ going to be fun, but this was also a chance to gain an ally. A very useful ally, Jason had to admit.

He didn't notice the bedroom door had opened, till Bruce cleared his throat.

Jason sat up quickly and looked at the man, ignoring the customary twinge of hatred and betrayal that sprang up. "Yeah?" He needed to play this cool.

Bruce walked into the bedroom. He wore the same suit he'd left in that morning, but his black hair was mussed and he'd thrown his tie over his shoulder. "Alfred told me what happened at the mall," he stated.

"Figures," Jason said. He laid back down, crossing his arms behind his head. In what he hoped was an apologetic and humble voice, he added, "I know I didn't do so great with Janet Drake, but I just got so angry when she started yelling at that kid and shaking him. Sorry."

A dim flicker in Bruce's eyes let Jason know that he'd done well. "You're right. There was a better way to deal with her, but… you did well, Jason. Not great, but good." He offered a wry smile. "We can work on your tactics later." He looked back out the door, then said, "Alfred's finishing with supper."

Jason raised an eyebrow. _That_ was what he'd been dreading for the past three hours? He was almost disappointed with anti-climactic it was. _Almost. _It wasn't like he enjoyed being yelled at.

Feeling a bit more confident, Jason hopped off the bed and pushed past Bruce. If that was how the Bat was going to act in this new timeline, then Jason was happy to play along. He glanced behind him to see Bruce had a tiny, barely-there smile as he followed. A good sign. Jason just wondered how long he could stay in the man's good graces.

The next two hours left Jason uncharacteristically content. He wasn't terribly happy, or ready to slaughter a prison, but he was pleased. Relaxed, and well-fed, he now sat in the living room, on the opposite end of the couch as Bruce. The Manor was nice and warm compared to the slight chill outside.

Alfred was somewhere in the Manor, cleaning something, or maybe reading Dickens or another one of those authors that automatically made you classy for reading them. Jason liked to read, he'd had shelves full of books when he'd lived in Wayne Manor before, but the language and ideologies in most of the classics were too outdated for his own personal tastes. He could only name a handful that he actually liked.

On his end of the couch, Bruce was fiddling with a little black machine. It seemed so ancient compared to the tech they'd use six years in the future, Jason realized. Bruce would be leaving for the cave and Gotham soon enough, and it felt odd to know that Jason would be staying here, completely shut off from the action.

He wanted to pull on his suit and rush straight back into the action, but he knew that while he knew all of the stances and mechanics of crime-fighting mentally, he had to build up his muscle physically. It sucked.

"When can I begin training?" he asked Bruce, who didn't even look up from his invention.

"Next week."

"Next week?" Jason stared at him. "Why can't we start now?"

"Next week, Jason," Bruce said sternly, making it clear there would be no discussion and no debate.

The boy resisted the urge to glare. _It's some sort of stupid test._ He turned to the TV, which was playing the evening news. It was a slow news day for Gotham – they were running video about a dog and cat. Jason never understood why they wasted everybody's time with these stupid stories. A small idea sparked in his mind. "Hey, what time do you have to leave?"

Bruce looked up this time. "What?"

"What time do you have to go dress-up?" Jason grinned, ignoring the flat expression Bruce gave him.

"In an hour or so," he replied.

"Think you can wait another hour? Make it two?" Jason asked, offering his best 'I'm-short-and-debatably-adorable' smile that made parents melt. Somehow, with some more smartly made comments, it worked, and two hours later he was dozing off as the credits rolled for a movie he'd seen ten thousand other times as Bruce left for Gotham.

It really was a game, Jason decided as he curled up even tighter on the couch. A game that depended on the decisions he made and his forward-thinking. He hadn't really wanted to watch a movie with Bruce all that much, but this was what had to be done. Things wouldn't work out any different unless he built a strong bond between himself and Bruce, unless he made Bruce see the other side of Jason Todd – the human side, the sweet side, the child who only wanted love and affection. The side that didn't really exist anymore.

* * *

_"If it had been you that he had beat to a bloody pulp, if he had taken you from this world, I would've done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil, death-worshipping garbage and then send him off to Hell!"_

_ "You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood."_ Bruce's voice was as clear as the second he'd said the sentence. As crisp and sharp as they were then in his head now. The dream had been of that encounter, of the night that finally broke any fragment of hope Jason had. He could still feel the gun in his hands and the way his heart had shattered, the tears running down his cheeks and the hatred and anger.

_"I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt."_

Jason hadn't realized there was even a blanket thrown over him till he felt warm hands trying to pry off his own, clenched painfully tight around the soft material. When he opened his eyes, the world was a blurry, watery mess and there was a dark shape hovering over him. _Shit. I didn't just fucking cry. _The wet pool on the pillow beneath his cheek denied that. _Shit._

He shoved himself off the couch and away from Bruce, quickly wiping at his eyes with the back of a fist, hating himself desperately for being such a mess. This wasn't who Jason Todd was. Jason Todd _did not_ freaking cry.

Except he had, and now he wanted to go jump into the Gotham Bay. _I hope this is just a damn side effect of coming back and that it wears off soon._ He scowled. This was what Dick did – or, he supposed. He hadn't ever really seen Dick cry, but he firmly felt that Dick was the crier in the Batfamily.

"Jason." Bruce's questioning, _worried_, voice was so different from the one in his dream. "Jason." He felt that warm hand again, on his shoulder now. Jason pushed him away, roughly and without thinking.

"Don't!" he yelled, stumbling to his feet and rearing on Bruce Wayne with the same ferocity as the Red Hood. "You don't care. You've never cared, so stop pretending like you do!"

Bruce stared at him, his hand dropping back to his side. He looked upset, almost angry but not quite there. "Jason," he said his name again, slowly and softly. A warning, a gentle request for his ward to break out of whatever trance had taken him.

Jason sighed, realizing he'd made another mistake. Feeling defeated and suddenly exhausted, he unsteadily sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. He stiffly muttered, "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

Bruce took a seat beside him and Jason was half-tempted to shove him away again, and half-tempted to curl up against him. He hated that the only person he loved in this world was the same person that took second place for 'most-hated' – Joker won first place in that competition, always.

"Who?" The straightforward question was just what he expected.

"… My dad." It was a half-truth. Neither his biological or adoptive father had ever seemed to care much. "It won't happen again," he promised. He almost hoped that Bruce would say 'don't worry about it', but that wasn't the Bat's way and he didn't have Abraxos to soften that metallic heart anymore.

"You dreamt about him," Bruce guessed.

"Yeah…" He was saved from Bruce pressing for further information by Alfred coming into the room, but he wasn't sure he was very appreciative of the interruption when he found out why it had happened.

"Master Richard is coming home for a while," Alfred said, a pleased smile on his weathered face. Jason, however, could only grimace.

No. Dick was _not_ allowed to come home yet. Dick needed to stay wherever he was, with whoever he was with, and far away. Jason was far from feeling up to the challenge of Richard Grayson.

His mood only worsened when Alfred added, "He should actually be here by breakfast."

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. "He couldn't have given us a better warning?"

Warning? They needed more than a warning. They needed evacuation bells to ring whenever that ballerina-of-a-Robin decided to come running home, that way Jason could run the other way.

"It was last minute, from my understanding, sir," Alfred explained. Both he and Bruce looked back when Jason collapsed against the back of the couch and shoved a pillow over his face. This was going to be a horrible day.

"Master Jason… are you feeling well?" Alfred asked.

Through the pillow, Jason answered, "I'm wonderful."

* * *

**It's not the longest chapter ever (I should really make it a goal to write chapters of an average length) but here we are. I planned on going further, but I then decided that this was the best place to cut off. **

**To answer some questions:**

**What I meant by 'real justice' in the rules, is that emotions do not come into play. When there's emotions, it's vengeance. An extreme example: it's like a teacher wouldn't give a five year old the death sentence for stealing another kid's snack cake. Just a time out and a lecture. Or, I hope. D:**

**About Jason's apprehension to the second chance: he wants it. Definitely. But he's also scared of what's going to happen, which is why it may seem like he doesn't at times. His life as the Red Hood wasn't very good, but at the same time that's all he knows now, so he's apprehensive of anything different. I don't know if I've explained it very well, but all I mean is that he wants the second chance, but there is a conflict of emotions inside of him due to past (or, future?) events. Yeah… :/**

**Sorry to all 'Gotham's…' readers. Sadly to say, the inspirational spirit for that fell down a rabbit hole and got its head cut off by the Queen of Hearts. I'm pushing myself to finish requests, but that's probably going to be the end of it. I apologize.**

**Thanks for reading! (Sorry for the long AN) :)**


	8. Adopt Me

I'm so sorry, but I can no longer find the time or the effort or the willpower to finish this. If anyone would like to finish it, or to take ideas from it, or whatever, feel free to do so.


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